I try to avoid “stream-of-consciousness”posts, but occasionally I’ll let one through. This one stings a bit…
I am tired. Physical fatigue is easy for me; getting emotionally wrung out is exhausting.
Events that have taken place over the past several years have demanded a release of expectations, a relinquishing of normality, how I think life “should” be.
Cancer was the big one. I used to wake in the morning, hoping that my diagnosis had been a bad dream. That I could laugh and shake my head, thinking, “Phew! Glad THAT wasn’t real!” And then go about my day, forgetting the fear and immersing myself in blissfully boring everyday life.
But that’s not what happened. I would wake in the pre-dawn hours after sleep had left me to the darkness, coldness spreading through my belly as I remembered that I had cancer. And in the midst of the fear of dying was that wrenching feeling of having to let go of wanting things to be different. Still desperately holding on when it was too late to do so.
Attachment leads to suffering. I know this, but I cling nonetheless, stubbornly refusing to accept change.
I was given a bit of news several days ago, too disorienting for me to even define in this post. Like cancer, it caught me off guard, and I cling to wanting things to be different. To be “normal” and uninteresting. I’m compelled by my need to fix it, make it comfortable and easy to accept.
Yet another thing I wish I could control. But I can only paw at it from the outside.
Now I’m engaging in emotional calisthenics, to try to find a notch on this slick surface that I can stick my finger into and get some sort of grip.
I wish this wasn’t the case. I’m disappointed that I feel the way I do. I tell myself, I should be more tolerant of what happens. But it’s the hope that things will stay the same that makes change so difficult.
I twist my thoughts into origami, trying to find a comfortable shape. It takes a lot of massaging to smooth out the edges and make this morsel easier to swallow. Every time I mull it over, it cuts me again.
At some point it is no longer the matter itself that causes pain. It’s all the emotion layered on top of it.
So I’m tired. Letting go, yes, but so slowly. You’d think that it would get easier with practice but even the process hurts.
Of course, holding on hurts more.